Young singer/flutist/poet/bookworm in tiny Wisconsin town struggles with Desire To Rock; much drama ensues. College psych major cracks her soul's code, buys one-way ticket to Paradise (Los Angeles). Leaves family and friends to pursue music career fame and fortune and, yeah, capital-L Love. Studies voice and begins writing songs. Buys an electric guitar and amplifier, takes lessons from hot-shot guitarist (future hot-shot husband), forms a band with him. Plays clubs, records songs, follows music industry "path to success.” Records full-album CD, takes it on the road. Ego sore from blindly following "The Path,” yet sinks in more cash, creative energy, and chaos. Soap opera produced out of striving for attainment of elusive Record Deal. Back to school to study guitar and piano; starts playing bass. Moves a lot. Leaves L.A. for central California. Back to small town living, the echo of her own voice across the chasm, and thusly quasi-quashed motivation, but with refreshed outlook, broader, more efficacious ability, and deeper, more satisfying creativity. Why not learn to play the drums, too? At sister’s behest, writes colorful memoir, Cravings, Ravings, & Misbehavings. Returns to college as Communication Studies major. Meanwhile, communicates quite fluently in a unique acoustic music trio called the Hot ’n’ Swirl Ensemble, and a classic rock band called We Play for Cash that doesn’t. Writing academic papers and rock songs in the same session. Whips up band artwork for kicks (I mean, how easy is it to be creative with a band that has stage names and does real concerts?!), and plays freelance graphic designer for fun and profit but not on tv. Incurable romantic meets die-hard pragmatist. Doesn't like being in crowds. Thinks she has a force field. Indeterminate "Super Taster" status, dreams of being paid handsomely to taste wine. Analyst becomes Rebel becomes Judge becomes Artist becomes Critic. Have tantrum. Fall to floor. Blue lips. Breathe. Add borrowed chord and quirky coda. Finish the song. Do it all again. Forget comparing apples and oranges, she's comparing quarks and clever phrases. Imagine a Denial-Is-A-River-In-Egypt type crossed with a mindful mountaintop dweller, add Theremin, humor, poetry, rock 'n' roll pipes, and presumptuous put-on. Cozy up to this stylistic and cerebral eccentric with a verve for turning a bland conversation spicy. Major overuse of Thesaurus, major under-use of deep fryer and drive-through lanes. Makes up words like enigmata, vocalikenesses, and supercilious (oh, that one's already a word). Never liked that song "Radar Love." Don’t get her started on Led Zeppelin, she’ll bounce away from the breakfast table and crank up Houses of the Holy or IV before you can swallow your words — er, Cap'n Crunch. Wrote a song called “Zillionaire” and is serious about turning her meaningful, musical life of communication into tons of warm, soft cash in her bank account, because who wants cold and hard anything except maybe metal, ice, and diamonds?

Music

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